


All in the Wrist

by Ehtar



Series: Prompt Fills [16]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Avengers Family, Cute, Developing Relationship, Fluff, FrostIron - Freeform, Gen, Helpful Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, M/M, Parent Tony Stark, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24051154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ehtar/pseuds/Ehtar
Summary: Tony's been spending way too much time at a claw machine, trying to win a particular toy. Thankfully, Loki's around and is pretty good at this sort of thing.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Prompt Fills [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1311365
Comments: 21
Kudos: 166





	All in the Wrist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leikio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leikio/gifts).



> This was a cute lil prompt given by Leikio which I picked up in the hopes of breaking through a nasty bout of burnout. It's been six months since I picked it up, so it didn't work as fast as I was hoping, but it was still fun to work on this. Hope you like it, hon! 💕

Tony cursed and restrained himself from ripping the joystick out of its panel in frustration. As cathartic as it might have been, it wouldn’t actually help at all, and he’d already spent multiple hours trying to best the damned machine in front of him.

Admitting that _any_ machine had got the best of him – not that he _was_ , mind – would have been bad enough, but to have it be one this primitive, this _basic_ , was galling. It ran counter to everything which made Tony Stark who he was: a determined, technological genius who could build anything. And to be outdone by something so…

He wouldn’t give up. Even with what felt like every eye on him, judging every failed attempt. He wouldn’t walk away from this blinking, wailing torture device. He was here for Peter, and he was too stubborn to walk away without the prize he’d come for.

Taking hold of the joystick again, gripping perhaps a little too tightly but not ripping them out by the wires the way he wanted to, Tony guided the claw to hover _just_ _so_ over the plush toy which Peter had spotted the day before.

It would have been incredibly simple to just go out and _buy_ the toy somewhere else, but that wasn’t really the point. Nor would it be quite right to go home and design the same kind of toy himself, maybe improve on it – _definitely_ improve on it – and have it and a dozen more all made for the kid. The whole point of standing there and feeding the claw machine quarter after quarter was the skill involved in getting the prize. Buying or making something similar wouldn’t prove anything which he hadn’t already proven a million times over. But winning the toy from the machine would prove something somewhat new: that he had the skill to do it, where others had failed. Where he himself had failed previously, in front of Peter.

And where he was continuing to fail, in a truly spectacular streak of bad luck.

He wondered if the amount of change he’d fed into the machine was enough to just purchase the whole thing at this point.

It wasn’t just about skill when it came to claw machines, he knew that. They were, in essence, scams for kids. Baby’s first con. Slot machines with a modicum of skill thrown in to make it legal. He knew that, knew that getting hung up on his having or not having the appropriate skills in order to win his prize of choice was a fool’s game… but it was becoming a matter of ego, now. He _would_ beat this machine, one way or another. Luck would strike if nothing else. Eventually…

“Well, Stark. I find myself something at a loss for how to respond to what I’m seeing.”

The familiar voice distracted him, and made the claw go much wider than he’d intended. He sighed. It’d probably been a doomed play, anyway.

Rather than turn around, Tony found the reflection of the man in the cabinet’s Plexiglas front. Even in reflection there was no way to mistake the walking, long haired smirk that had snuck up behind him. The fact that Tony wasn’t nearly as upset about having Loki, God of Mischief and Once-Almost-Conqueror of New York sneaking up within such convenient stabbing distance could probably be put down to a combination of his distraction with the machine, and that Loki had become one of the newest members to the Avengers. It still wasn’t a comfortable feeling, but it didn’t have him jumping and diving for cover the way he would have thought it still would have been doing at this point.

Without bothering to return the smirk being leveled at him via reflection, Tony plunked another quarter into the machine. “That right? They not have anything as primitive as claw machines on Asgard or something? I’m having a little trouble imagining Thor or any of his friends having a go on one, but that doesn’t rule out the whole planet.”

“Oh, similar devices do exist, certainly.” As Tony began the delicate operation as positioning the claw, Loki’s head tilted in the reflection, following the motion with apparent interest. Tony did his best to ignore him.

Loki remained surprisingly quiet throughout Tony’s play. From the careful maneuvering of the claw into place, through the janky descent into the mounds of soft toys, the stuttering and loose closure of the claw, the almost-grip it took on the toy next to the one Tony was attempting to excavate, the lift of claw and the toy a scant few inches before it slipped back out of the metal grip and fell back into place, through the claw’s solo journey back to the delivery chute and its rather sarcastic reopening to deposit a prize it was no longer holding. Loki remained silent through it all, and for a rather weighted second or two after the claw had finished its round.

“It has been some time since I last attempted or witnessed such devices myself, Stark,” he said in a mock-delicate tone. “But I believe the point of them is to catch and then receive the objects inside the case.”

“Assuming Asgard and Earth are in accord on that, then yes. Your memory isn’t failing you.”

“Ah. Then I’m afraid I must make a rather… embarrassing observation on your performance with this particular machine.”

“I’m quite aware of the problem, thank you. No need to belabor the point.”

“Now, now, what sort of friend would I be if I didn’t make some attempt in helping you improve your skills?”

“A discreet one? Isn’t that meant to be one of your selling points?”

“Yes, well. As your ever charming Director likes to point out, I need to ‘change my ways’ to ‘better fit the team.’” In the reflection, Tony saw Loki give air quotes around the corporate-friendly language Fury had used on the mage – most likely to annoy him. God knew Fury had no problem being gruff and outspoken, so it only stood out more when he decided to be PC.

“How very cooperative of you,” Tony grumbled, slotting yet another quarter into the machine. “Doing your part to fit in with the team during an hour of need. I feel so honored to be noticed.”

“As you should.”

Tony snorted, but didn’t answer. By some miracle, Loki also decided to remain silent.

It was a little strange – more than a little, if he were honest – to be playing a crane game while Loki watched him. Beyond the vague performance anxiety, just the situation in of itself was… _silly_. What the hell was his life where he found himself stuck in front of a simple crane machine for hours, and then had an ex-villain, (bona fides on that still pending), alien/god watch him in his floundering efforts? What. The actual hell.

Not for the first time, Tony wondered if he wasn’t having a very long, very vivid dream. Or maybe it was a hallucination. No way was this real life anymore.

Whatever reservations _he_ might have had about the reality of the situation, Loki didn’t appear to be similarly hampered. He stood at Tony’s shoulder, watching without comment as Tony went through the motions of three more attempts. Had it been anyone else, Tony might have forgotten that they were there at all, but that was proving to be more difficult to manage when the one standing behind him was _Loki_. If he thought he had any chance of selling it, he’d have said that Loki lurking there was to blame for his awful performance… but that had been true long before Loki arrived.

“How much experience have you had on these machines, Stark?”

Tony paused, looking at the other man reflected in the glass cabinet. Rather than the mocking smirk he’d been expecting, Loki’s expression was remarkably neutral. Inquisitive, but not much else. That probably wasn’t as reassuring as it should have been.

“It’d be a little hard to pinpoint,” he said, twirling the next quarter in his fingers. “Depends on what time it is.”

For a moment Loki was still, and then his face broke into a smile as he chuckled, still without any apparent malice. “Well, I suppose that excuses your rather abysmal performance thus far. Somewhat.” He tilted his head again, eyeing Tony intently through the reflection. “Though I must admit to some… curiosity as to the intensity of your newfound hobby. Is it just because your pride has been pricked at not immediately mastering the discipline?”

Despite only looking at Loki through the reflection, it was still a little unnerving to hold the man’s eye for too long. And as always, his observations hit a little too close to home for comfort.

“Yep,” he said, shoving the quarter into the slot and gripping the sticks. “Can’t let a machine best me, can I?”

Why was it so difficult to catch the plush toy he wanted to grab? It was pretty well buried, but he’d been diligently excavating the prize for some time, and even the more superficial layers were fighting him. The thing was rigged, obviously, but it must be _possible_ to get some of the toys out…

“You seem rather fixated on one toy in particular.”

Tony tensed slightly. “Makes sense, doesn’t it? If I wanna beat the machine, then I should focus on only one prize.”

“If your true motive were just to best the machine, then you would set your focus on one of the toys nearer the exit than you have done, or one which was sitting atop the rest. If you were really determined to win a prize no matter what it was, you would aim for one which is both. Instead you seem to be trying for a toy which is on the opposite side and deeply buried.”

“Have you never heard of a thing called ‘challenge,’ Lokes, or is everything just so easy for you the concept is foreign?”

“Not so foreign as to make it unrecognizable. I’m also fully capable of recognizing a fool and a rather poor liar.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Takes one…”

So focused was he on maneuvering the claw into just the right position, he didn’t notice when Loki stepped up beside him until the god spoke, making him jump and release the joystick prematurely, ruining his play. Though it probably would have failed in any case, he thought.

“Who is it you mean to give this little token of affection to, Stark?”

Tony whipped around, doing his level best to not swallow his tongue. “’Token of _affection_ ’? What the absolute hell are you talking about?”

The smirk Tony had been expecting before finally appeared, curving Loki’s mouth into a frustratingly knowing sort of expression. “It is at times absurdly easy to read you mortals, and this occasion even more so. I do not think for a moment that you would pick a fight with a toy of this kind,” he tapped the glass of the case, “with nearly this much determination unless there was a _reason_ to do so. Given the nature of the prizes, I also do not believe that you would want to keep it for yourself. Which leaves the rather obvious conclusion: you want this toy for someone else.”

“Which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a ‘token of affection,’” he insisted, pressing on the first flaw he could see. “I might be getting this as a joke gift.”

“If that were the case, then you wouldn’t be spending so much time and obvious frustration in the endeavor. You would have simply purchased a toy similar enough to do the job. The point of this gift isn’t in the toy itself, but in the effort it acquiring it for the receiver.”

When Tony didn’t immediately reply, Loki turned to look at him directly, his grin growing so there was a flash of teeth. Tony tried to keep the heat from rising to his face. The last thing he needed to do right now was blush.

“So who is it, Stark?”

He thought quickly, considering his options. He could try continuing to deny everything Loki was saying, maybe tell him that he’d lost a bet and was forced to stay where he was until he’d caught a very specific item – he’d done things like that before, it’d be plausible enough to pass. He thought about coming up with a fictitious person whom he could say the toy was for, giving Loki what he already thought was the truth and get him to leave… but that would have a long term knock on effect he wasn’t willing to follow through on. Plus he had the sneaking suspicion that Loki would _still_ be able to tell that Tony was lying. He was unfortunately astute on that sort of thing. Which left either just telling Loki to bug off and hope he listened, or…

“It’s for Peter.”

Loki blinked. “You mean Parker? Your little protégé who likes to climb walls?”

“That’s the one.”

Loki didn’t say anything right away, just continued to stare at Tony from what he felt was far too close up. Even without the direct eye contact, Tony broke first. “We came by here a couple days ago, and he saw the toy and really took a shine to it. We weren’t able to get it then, so I decided to come by, pick it up and surprise him with it.”

Tony expected a little bit of mocking for the admission. It was Loki’s MO, after all, and it was a faintly ridiculous position Tony had put himself into, so mocking was to be expected. Hell, he’d probably be mocking _himself_ if their positions had been switched.

“… You have a rare talent for managing to surprise me, Stark.”

Tony blinked, and turned to look at Loki directly. Instead of a taunting expression he’d still been expecting to find, Loki’s look was… soft. Soft for Loki, at any rate. Like he was looking at Tony to actually see what was there, and not to just find what he expected, or to seek out chinks in his armor. It was a little like the Asgardian had dropped his mask a little in order to see behind Tony’s. It was a little unnerving.

“Oh, yeah? How did I manage to do that?”

If anything, Loki’s expression became even more searching. It wasn’t something Tony felt entirely comfortable with facing dead on, but turning away from him felt impossible.

“I never would have expected to find a paternal instinct so deeply ingrained in one such as you. Any number of _other_ instincts, yes, but not paternal.”

He floundered, sputtering a little without actually managing to form words. _Him?_ Feeling _paternal?_ As in, like he was Peter’s _dad?_ Sure, he was fond of the kid, and wanted to help him along the crazy path of masked hero and make sure he came out of it alive, but Loki had been more on the money with ‘protégé.’ He wasn’t setting himself up to be anyone’s _father_ , for gods’ sake. He’d had enough of fathers while experiencing them from the other side, thank you very much, and he had absolutely _zero_ intentions of either setting himself up for that kind of failure or for any poor kid to start hating him the same way he hated Howard. No, no, _no_. As though he would even know what to do if he ever _were_ put in that position. It wasn’t like Howard had provided the best of examples to work from and build on. Being absent and having crushingly large expectations comprised the majority of Tony’s ‘learn by example’ way to parenting, and no way was that the full breadth of it. A father was someone who would be there for their kid, and would show an interest in what _they_ wanted to do, not just what he wanted them to achieve. A father would do things with their kid, be involved in their lives in meaningful ways, would—

He would go to ridiculous lengths to get their kid something which they had shown a lot of interest in; like a toy from a claw machine.

Not something which one would normally do for someone who was just a protégé.

Well, _hell_.

Loki arched a brow at him, the little smile returning. “Worked it out for yourself, have you?”

Tony snorted, turning back to the cabinet determinedly. Whether more determined to win a toy or to ignore Loki’s smile, he wasn’t sure, but _determined_ , damn it.

“It’s rather charming. So inexperienced in your role, and so tenacious in earning the boy’s trust and affection. It’s not anything to feel embarrassed about, Stark,” he added when Tony refused to reply. “Unless you feel embarrassed on Peter’s behalf.”

“Like I ever would!” Tony lashed out before he could stop himself. “That kid is a powerhouse and a genius; in no way would I ever be embarrassed over him.”

“Despite his penchant for trouble?” There was a knowing kind of spark lurking in Loki’s eye when he asked, and rather than rile Tony even further, it got him to smile back.

“More like I’m even more proud of him _because_ of it. Just don’t tell him I said that bit. Who knows what sorts of hell he’d get up to with tacit approval.”

Loki held up his hands, his smile never leaving him. “He’ll never hear anything of the kind from me.”

Tony bit back a small groan. He had a feeling that Peter would be hearing something close enough to what he just said soon enough. There were too many loopholes built into Loki’s protest for him _not_ to use them.

For a while, they lapsed back into silence. Tony fed the machine quarters and made indifferent progress, and Loki watched. After a while, Tony was actually able to begin to forget that he was there. Maybe it was because Loki had stopped staring as though he intended to either solve the puzzle of Tony’s motivations or set him on fire if he couldn’t, and was just _watching_ the way a friend might as he failed over and over again. It was more of an improvement than he wanted to admit it was.

“Would you be open to a little instruction?”

Tony stopped, hand and quarter poised over the slot, and squinted Loki’s direction. “What sort of instruction?”

Loki shrugged. “Just a little guidance in how to handle the controls, how to strategize and use some of the quirks of the machine to your advantage and gain your prize. I wouldn’t dream of taking away the pleasure and pride of winning the toy yourself. But at the same time…” He gestured at both Tony and the claw machine, taking in the picture that the two of them formed together. “This is becoming faintly painful.”

There was some truth to that, and it was probably somewhat indicative of just how long Tony had been standing there, losing game after game, that he didn’t reject the idea outright. Or even after thinking about it for a few moments.

“Sure, why not? It’s not as though you could make me any _worse_ at this thing without setting it on fire or having it sprout tentacles.”

“What a very intriguing idea.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, but I always dare, Stark.” He gave Tony a wide grin, the look in his eye nearly enough to recall the blush Tony had fought back not long before.

He almost managed to fight the new blush back down as well. Until Loki stepped up close behind him and looped his arms underneath Tony’s, hands hovering over the backs of his, chest pressed snugly against his back.

“What the—is personal space not a thing where you come from?” He wiggled, attempting to untangle himself from the Asgardian and step away, but Loki was stuck firm to his back, refusing to be dislodged.

“Not in the same way as you Midgardians seem to think of it, no.” And dear _god_ , Loki’s breath washed over the side of his neck and his ear he was so close. It took phenomenal strength to not shiver in response. Who knew what sort of mocking _that_ would inspire. As a matter of self-preservation, Tony stopped trying to wiggle out of Loki’s grip.

Taking a breath he hoped Loki didn’t interpret as anything other than being put out, he huffed. “Alright, so what’s the plan, here? You steer me and I steer the claw, and I’ll learn the skills which make you such a master at these sorts of games?”

“That will depend on just how responsive you are, won’t it?”

… There was no way he wasn’t doing that on purpose. _No one_ could be that suggestive without putting in some kind of effort. Unless it was just all in Tony’s imagination… What would that say about his inner psyche if he only _thought_ that Loki was…?

“Alright, then. Manipulate me.”

Tony tried not to feel _too_ proud when Loki stiffened for a moment before beginning his lesson.

It wasn’t as bad as the snippets his overactive imagination had managed to come up with in the minute or so since Loki had pressed up against him. Loki remained pressed up against his back, his larger frame making it easy for him to do so and thread his arms and hands over Tony’s, to keep his mouth beside Tony’s ear to give him directions. The longer Loki stood at his back, the more heat sank into him and the more he began to relax, despite… well, everything. And the more he relaxed, the easier time of it Loki had of guiding his hands on the joysticks. The guidance, more than the words he was speaking directly into Tony’s ear, had a visible effect on his performance. It wasn’t long before the claw was actually lifting toys out of the way. Even if most of them never made it to the chute, they were no longer an obstruction to the one he was really after.

He began to wonder if Loki was _doing_ _something_ to make the process go smoother. It seemed a little unlikely that there would be this much improvement without some sort of voodoo going on.

But at the same time, for some reason… he really didn’t think that he was. It wasn’t exactly Loki’s style, to do something quite that subtle with no end goal in mind. And what could he possibly hope to gain out of that kind of deception? Weird as it was to consider, he thought it more likely that Loki had been honest in what he’d said: that he’d leave the actual winning of the prize to Tony. The only thing Loki would provide was some guidance.

Life had certainly gotten strange in recent years.

When the coveted plush toy was finally excavated, Loki surprised him by releasing his hands and stepping back. The loss of warmth and weight was more of a shock than he would have liked to admit, and he turned round to look at the Asgardian questioningly.

Loki was looking at him with an odd sort of smile, and motioned towards the cabinet. “You’ve learned enough to get your prize without help, Stark. Make your _protégé_ proud.”

He raised a brow at that, but Loki was unmoved. Hoping that the impromptu lesson had done some good, he did as he was told and returned to the machine, grip on the sticks tightening.

There were a couple of false starts. Without Loki directly guiding him he could feel himself falling back into his old habits, the deceptively subtle differences which had tripped him up before. Still, he made more progress than he had been before, and the toy actually began to make its journey through the cabinet.

By the time it had reached the final stretch, Tony felt as though he were watching the end of a neck and neck race. He was leaning into the glass, heart thumping against his ribs, teeth digging into his lower lip… Far too much investment and tension considering the stakes, but dammit, he’d spent too much time in front of this machine as it was. He _was_ going to get that toy on _this round_.

The distance from the toy to the chute was about two feet. Two feet where a slip in his aim might mess the whole play. Two feet and two hard knocks as the claw lifted into the air with the prize, and then again when it came to a stop, the toy swinging back and forth between the chute and the wasteland just around it where toys were particularly hard to catch when having to avoid the lip of the chute itself…

“Relax, Stark. Remember to relax, or you’ll lose what you’ve been fighting for.”

He took a breath, recalled the feel of Loki’s hands ghosting over the backs of his, the way he would maneuver the claw to _just_ the right place…

“I don’t believe it.”

There was a laugh in Loki’s tone. “So little faith in yourself. I, for one, knew you would succeed.” His grin was much more like the one Tony had come to know. “How could you fail, when you had _me_ to help you?”

Tony wanted to return the smug assertion with a little jab of his own. Not necessarily to deflate him, but just because it felt like the sort of thing he _ought_ to do when Loki said something like that. But holding the little soft toy which Peter had taken such an odd shine to, and which he probably _wouldn’t_ have gotten if Loki hadn’t helped out – at least not within the next 24 hours – the snarky rejoinder just sort of… died on his tongue.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” he said instead.

Loki looked as though he were about to have a stroke, such was his expression. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve got a point,” he repeated, careful to be sure he enunciated every syllable. “I’d still be stuck without your help, and Pete would have been without his toy for who knows how much longer. It’s a small thing, but I’m sure he would have felt the absence of having it his life in any case. So… thank you.”

If it were possible to look any more stunned than Loki did in that moment, Tony was hard pressed to imagine it. He stared at Tony as though he had never heard anything like what he’d said in his life, lips parting and eyes wide.

After a moment he recalled himself, and gave himself a small shake. “Yes, well. Just be sure that the boy _does_ get that gift, and that he knows _you_ were the one to get it for him.” He leveled a glare at Tony. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating as Loki probably hoped it was.

“Not a problem, Lokes.”

He glared a moment longer – probably for effect – before his form melted away in the air, leaving Tony alone with the soft toy.

Tony smiled to himself, and looked down at Peter’s new plush. He’d be sure to tell Peter that it was him who got it out of the machine, but that wouldn’t stop him for a minute in telling the kid who it was who _helped_. Peter was already more than a little intrigued by Thor and Loki. Knowing that one had taken even an indirect interest in _him_ would send the kid over the moon.

And it would be fun to see how Loki reacted to having a teen hanging around him at every opportunity.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! 💕
> 
> You can find me on  
> Tumblr: [@ehtarwrites](http://ehtarwrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@ehtarwrites](https://twitter.com/ehtarwrites)  
> Discord: @ehtarwrites#4962 
> 
> If anyone wants to come say hi or chat about nerdy things, hmu! ♥


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